Sorrowful Sam
by Cubby250
Summary: Pirates don't all become pirates in the same way.
"Grab him!"

"Don't let him get away."

"Ouch, that hurt Furball."

"Get him. Quick. He's getting away."

We were playing a combination of tag and King of the Hill, even though there wasn't a hill. The idea was that one person was 'it'. Rather than tag people you were supposed to tackle them. Once you did, they were on your side and would help you tackle the players left. I usually wasn't entirely thrilled with some of the 'revised' rules that Tig came up with when it came to games, but this one was pretty cool since it gave me a chance to win even though I couldn't run faster than a sort of galloping trot. It was me and Stumble left now and I was determined to win, even though they were after me. I probably should have been caught by this time, but just as Red was about to tackle me, I slipped on some leaves and went tumbling down a hill. He flew over me and landed in a mud puddle. I don't think he was as happy about it as I would have been.

Another good thing about this game was the boundaries. It'd probably take me half-a-day to reach the out-of-bounds area, even if I was galloping. This game was as much about tracking as tackling. Once when Leo had been the last person left, the game had lasted three days.

Once I got to the bottom of the hill, I stood up and took off as fast as my legs would carry me. I left a trail of broken leaves and twigs behind me, but figured they might think I was being so clumsy because I was leaving a false trail. Of course it was equally possible that they thought I was being so clumsy because I was clumsy. I stopped and listened, but didn't hear anyone behind me yet. When it came to rolling down muddy hills and getting thoroughly plastered in the stuff I tended to be more exuberant than the others. It'd take them a few extra minutes to find a 'cleaner' way down and I can roll down a hill a lot faster than they can.

Several dozen more steps brought me to a large creek. I dipped my left big toe into it causing it to immediately go numb, even through my pawmoc. Sighing I stepped into it and started down the creek. I only got about a meter when I realized that they would probably figure I'd take the easy way downstream. I turned around and started trudging upstream against the current. I walked for what seemed like forever and then walked some more just for good measure. There were a bunch of fallen tree trunks and I was pretty sure I didn't leave any trace as I got of the stream by climbing on top of them.

"Puckernuts," I said when I looked down at my feet after a few steps. On my left foot was the tattered pawmoc that normally resided there. On the right foot was my tattered skin. Somewhere I'd managed to lose the pawmoc and with my luck, it was probably somewhere very visible to anyone looking for me. Not to mention the woodland elves were going to be really irritated when I told them I'd managed to lose another one. This was like the sixth or seventh that had gone missing. I hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether to go back and look for it or not. My mind was made up when I thought I heard something splashing in the creek, even though it might have just been the running water. The soles of my feet had toughened up a lot since I'd become a Lost Boy, so that didn't bother me. It was just knowing what would happen when everyone found out I lost it.

After jumping as far from the logs as I could, l started to walk cross-country trying to be careful not to snag or break anything as I passed. The ground was liberally sown with rocks, so I made a good bit of distance jumping from rock to rock. There was some solid ground beyond that and a quick look back didn't reveal any moc or paw prints after I'd passed over it. I wasn't good enough to throw Leo off my trail, but most of the time when we were playing games, he wouldn't search as hard as he probably could. Now I had to decide if I wanted to keep trying to move ahead of them or if it would be better to simply choose one place and hide. I'd been smart enough to grab a length of rope before the game started, so I could climb a tree and wouldn't have to worry about falling out of it. The downsides were that up in a tree would be the first place the others would look (or for the fresh depression below it) and the rather interesting fact that I'd managed to fall out of trees before even when I was tied to the trunk.

Once again the decision was taken out of my hands as I suddenly smelled something so incredibly wonderful I started to drool. Someone nearby was baking cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate chip cookies that were begging to be eaten and promised that there would be ice-cold milk to go with them. Anyone watching me probably would have been reminded of those cartoons in which a scent is pulling some person along as they floated a foot off the ground. I wasn't floating, but it sure wasn't from lack of trying. My thoughts had narrowed to whether or not these wonderfully scented chocolate chip cookies had nuts or not when I was brought back to reality by an extremely loud 'twang' sound. I felt myself start to trip, but before I hit the ground, I was flying through the air. In the next instant I was bobbing upside down, hanging by my left ankle. There was no way I was going to be able to bend my body up enough to even reach the loop of rope that was around my ankle, much less untie it.

"Well, well, well. Looks like maybe something decided to spring our little trap? Shall we see what it was? Oh yes indeed. I think we should." I tried to swing around, but the rustle of leaves was directly behind me. The sound of footsteps was coming closer and I screwed my eyes shut, that being my natural reaction in such a case. "Well, well, well. You've done captured you a big one, Sam. Yes, indeed you have. Ol' Cap'n Hook'll pay quite a pretty shilling for this one I reckon. Maybe even two since that bear pelt be big enough for a rug, I'm thinkin'. Open yer eyes boy. Hasn't no one told you that Lost Boys ain't supposed to be craven? Why in my day a Lost Boy worth his salt'd been out of that trap long 'fore I showed up. And wouldn't been fooled by no scent neither. O' course you look like you could be lured by sweets."

I opened my eyes in time to see the man in front of me snap a tiny chest closed. It was immediately apparent the person in front of me was a pirate. He had a bandana wrapped around his head from which a set of dreadlocks sprung from. He looked a little taller than me and very lanky. There was a ring of gold in one ear and a tattoo of a skull and crossbones that hardly showed up on the skin of one bony arm. He had on some sort of shirt with a vest, pants and boots. The boots were a bit surprising since most pirates went barefoot. There was the obligatory cutlass and what looked like some sort of necklace or medallion that was tucked into his shirt. As soon as he had closed the chest, the scent of cookies was replaced with the loamy scent of the forest. "Hey! That's not fair."

"Fair is it?" he asked with a laugh. "Whatcha say to that Sam? This rascal thinks I'm not bein' fair. We might change his mind of that fact 'fore this little episode ends. What say you? Oh I agree most wholeheartedly. He'll change his tune."

I was a little confused by the fact that he seemed to be talking to someone else until I realized he was talking to himself and answering. I talked to myself a lot, but I'd made it sort of an unofficial policy not to answer. "Who are you? What are you going to do to me? You'd better let me go or Peter will make you sorry. So will the rest of the guys and Ember too."

"That be a bit better," the pirate said with a gleam in his eye that could be described as anything from humorous to deadly. It's hard to tell behind the dreadlocks that keep sweeping back and forth in front of his eyes as well as the fact that hanging upside down by one ankle ain't the best way to tell such things. As for your friend Pan, it seems me and him have been known to one another before. Weren't the best o' deals that neither one of us got but it was passin' fair. Ah, there be that word again, eh Sam? Why yes indeed. Perhap the boy has the right of it after all and 'tis some things need be fair. Will be nothin' Pan does to me 'les I do something to cause you a mortal wound or threaten same. Hangin' upside down by one ankle ain't going to do it, boy." He gave me a poke on my nose which started me slowly spinning.

"It could you know. Hanging upside down means all the blood will rush to my head and could leak out my ears or something. And hanging by an ankle, could pull it off and then more blood would come out. Or what if the rope breaks and I hit my head. That could cause me to die real easy I bet."

The pirate shook his head in mock-sorrow. "Them be the chances I must take then." He grinned showing that he was missing a couple of teeth in front. "Thar would be a splendid duel. Me and Pan seein' who the best swordsman was. It might be I know where I could get me some of that dust stuff too," he said eyeing me. I suddenly felt like a chicken with a fox in front of me.

"It won't work for pirates," I shouted, managing to dredge up a tiny bit of courage from who knew where. "Ya have to think happy thoughts, uh… good happy thoughts," I corrected figuring that he probably did have some happy thoughts that might not be the same as a Lost Boy's happy thoughts. I ain't got none no way. They don't trust me with it, so there."

"Belay that talk, boy. If pixie dust I be wantin' then it be pixie dust I be getin'. Now, as for who I be? I be Sam. Sorrowful Sam and I be pleased to be makin' your acquaintance." He stood there waiting. "And?" he finally pointedly prompted me.

"Oh. I'm Cubby."

"Aye, that would fit then, wouldn't it. And what for are you out here Cubby? A little reconnaissance mission is it? See if ye can fin' ol' Cap'n Hooks treasure be it?"

"No. Yes. You better let me go or the others'll get you. They were right behind me. They sent me first to make sure things were okay and they'll be here any minute."

The pirate guffawed loudly enough to echo from the woods and cause a couple of birds to take to the sky in flight. "They sent you as point, eh? Ye'll have t' do better than that Cubby. I'm bettin' you be the greenest Lost Boy and be the last one they'd be sendin' out first. No, laddie. I'd say the way you come sneakin' over that ridge tryin' not to leave a mark means you either be runnin' away or ye be playing some sort o' game. I be thinking the last one be the right of it. Now tell me the true tale and don' be playin' no stories on me."

I hung there slowly twisting around. Even though you aren't really doing anything, it's very, very hard to hang by one ankle. Hard and extremely uncomfortable. It's not easy to think about things clearly while you're doing it either. I finally pieced together the fact that it probably wasn't horrible if he knew I was playing a game instead of running away. It might even scare him off if I could get him to believe the others were going to get here soon. There was no way I could have hidden my trail that well. "Yeah, we're playing a game. So what? That just means the others'll be here in no time. You can still leave before they get here."

The grin returned to his face. "Game playin' it be, eh? Didn't doubt it for a sconce." He looked at me and then back in the direction I'd come. "Must be 'Tagkle' you be playing."

"That game really exists?" I blurted out. "I thought…" I managed to stop my mouth and not mention Tig's name. "I thought that was just a game that was made up."

"Oh, aye? And do ye often play those games such as don't exist? What think you, Sam? Is the Cubby to be believed? Mayhap. Mayhap indeed. It does seem I 'member things such as that being true." He gave me another grin and poked me in the stomach. "As fat as ye be, it must be that winning come easy in this game." He gave a guffaw and I sighed. Seriously? No matter what happened, someone was always managing to bring up my weight.

"Who are you?" I asked again. I was more curious than scared (probably because of hanging upside down). "How do you know about this stuff?"

"Have ye got barnacles in your ears lad? I tol' ye, me name is Sorrowful Sam. Not it be my turn Cubby. Be ye ever thought to run away from them boys that be lost? Answer truthful for I be knowing what be in your heart if ye don't."

I didn't even have to stop and think about that one. "Are you crazy? Of course I haven't ever thought of running away from them. Why would I? They're my friends and brothers. I could never do that. I'd be crazy to do that. Who'd ever think of doing that?" The thought was just preposterous to my mind, upright or upside down.

"Who ever be thinkin' 'bout that indeed. Think ye it could never happen, do ye? Think that nothin' ever change in the life o' a Lost Boy, do ye? He doesn't think it could ever happen, Sam. What think ye of that? Easy, mate. Be easy. He still be green as the grass and prob'ly not been here o'er a rough winter yet or near starvin'. Mayhap he come to find out what it be when it happens."

The pirate drew his cutlass and I knew I was dead. Strangely I had no desire to start bawling or begging for mercy or anything like that. I just hung there trying to make sense of it. The pirate did some sort of fancy figure-eight movement with the cutlass and then swiped it across the rope that was holding me up. I fell gracelessly to the ground, head first naturally. I looked up to see two pirates above me, neither of which would hold still, surrounded by a bunch of stars.

"Fair making ye acquaintance, Cubby. I be thinkin' we now have figured out if dropping ye on your head be a fatal type of accident. I'm thinkin' not. As for ye, be not believin' I be shy about taking your head from ye neck if that what I be wantin'. It be that I never cut grass when it be green and be in the summer like you be now. Next time 'twon't be as easy on ye. Ask the fox boy about the scar on his head under the nest of his. Ask the one with stripes 'bout his limp when it be froze out. And ask the raccoon lad they name Stumble 'bout the legend of Sorrowful Sam when the one called Pan ain't about. Pan don't like the legend, ye see. He be thinkin' that no one need hear the tale of what happen' to them boys who are lost who run away."

I looked at the two pirates in shock. As they slowly merged back into one as the stars faded from my vision I asked, "You mean you used to be one of us? And you became a pirate? But why?"

"Why indeed, laddiebuck. 'tis a tale for the stormiest of storms and the blackest o' nights. I be lettin' him tell the tale, but two more things I be tellin' ye. I ain't the only one who be down that course."

That raised some questions. "Who else?"

"Nay, bear boy. Might be it worth me life to tell you that. Might be it no matter. Still 'twon't be me lips that spill the cat out o' the bag. The second thing be this. If ye ever believe that runnin' away from that pack o' boys that be lost be the best of it, ye best think twice or thrice on it. There be a lot worse things than bein' hungry for a few months, even for one bein' as tubby as you." He saluted me with the cutlass and re-sheathed it with a flourish. "The nex' time I be seein' ye, green you won't be whether ye be thinkin' so or not. That be true out here, on the Jolly Rog' or where ev' else our courses may cross. 'twill be no quarter given and none asked." He tossed a coin on top of me that he pulled out of a pocket. "Ye show that to Stripes and he be knowin' you crossed the jib o' Sorrowful Sam."

I watched as he started off. He hadn't quite gotten out of sight when he suddenly stopped and turned. "I be a liar, I be. 'tis three things not two since the question you did pose. It be true that most pirates canna be usin' the dust to fly. Yet them that still believe, and there be fair few o' them, can." He turned and this time kept walking until he disappeared among the trees.

A few minutes later the rest of the boys showed up to find me still lying on the ground and pondering what had happened. I held up the coin. Tigger saw it and shook his head. "I guess you met Sam." He didn't look at all happy about that fact.


End file.
